


Mind and Body

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Ghost Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Piglin Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Waking up on your own in a cabin that feels so intimately familiar and yet so completely new is not something he expected. Waking up in that same cabin with no idea of what was going on in the world around him, limbs so weak they ache, and a man with hands that pass right through his own body, is something he would’ve expected much less.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 113
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Unease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note- any relationships that may come up here are completely platonic. There will be no shipping in this fic at any time.
> 
> This first chapter is pretty small, and updates will come slowly. I’m hoping I’ll be able to keep up the motivation to update consistently.
> 
> I’ll also probably change the rating eventually, but we shall see.

He woke up with a start. There were sheets piled up around him, and he blinked up at the wooden roof above his head. He didn’t know where he was. Or, it was familiar- the lights streaming through the window was familiar, as was the stiff mattress he’d woken up on. But he couldn’t put a name to the place. Couldn’t put a proper touch to it. When he tried to remember walking around here, as he knew he must have done so often, he could not scrape up a single memory. Just a feeling. An instinct, that he’d been here before.

He sat up, wrinkling his nose as dust was thrown up around him. Dust? Dust from what? If he’d been here so often, then why were the blankets he’d woken up on top of absolutely coated in the stuff? He ran a hooved hand along the top of the sheets, grimacing at the grime that gathered on it just from that action.

Forcing himself to stand up was a bit of a task. He’d sat up with ease, sure, but his legs were weak. He didn’t know why, but they shook as he stood, using the wall for balance during his attempts to stand up straight. Normally, he’d expect stars to dance in his vision, and he could wait for the spell to pass and continue with his day. But nothing of the sort happened, and his legs were still trembling even after standing there for what felt like minutes. Fine, then. He’d just walk anyways, weak legs or not.

Shuffling steps moved towards the ladder he could see at the end of the room. Thankfully, it was pretty close to where he’d been laying on the bed, so even in his bad condition he could make his way over.

Getting down the ladder was a whole other matter. He doubted his legs could support him there, and if they were so weak he doubted his arms were in any better of a condition. Definitely not enough to make up for the work his legs would’ve had to do.

Minutes of staring at the ladder, contemplating how the hell he was gonna do that, he decided on just trying it out. He had no other options. So he reached out, grabbing onto the highest rung, and oh yeah, there was no way his arms were gonna do that, but it was too late anyways. He was already committed, and after securing his hand there as best he could manage he began stepping down onto the easiest rung to reach.

And then, oh so unexpectedly, he slipped.

He felt his body falling, heading towards the ground at a faster pace than anyone would really want to. A scrabbling hand grabbed at the ladder, but its weak grip slipped off almost immediately, and all he ended up doing was pulling himself close enough for a hearty smack to his jaw while he fell.

His body thumped solidly to the ground at the foot of the ladder, and he wheezed, shaking weakly.

But he felt no pain.

No pain at all. That was confusing, but more than anything he was just happy he hadn’t broken his neck and died. Of course, he couldn’t get up. His body felt gone, away from him, much too weak to pick itself up as he lay there, looking over the room in front of him. It was nice. Homely. There was a fireplace tucked away in the corner, long gone out, with a small kitchen tucked away into the corner. Old furniture took up the space by the fireplace, covered in more blankets and furs than he thought was really necessary. Still seemed cozy, though. An overwhelming want to get up and wrap himself up in those washed over him, so with shaking hands he pushed himself up, slowly making his way over to settle gently into the blankets. He pulled the closest over himself, sighing. He was tired.

He didn’t know how long he was there, curled up in a heavy blanket and hoping he’d soon get enough energy to even think about where he was, and what to do about it. But at some point, he heard steps. Fairly light ones. Something rustled, and his pointed ears tilted towards the door. He heard the fumbling of a key, shivered whispers, before metallic clinging alerted him that whoever was outside had managed to unlock the door.

He should probably be concerned about that, but...he couldn’t. The door creaked open, a voice filtering through the burst of cold air that came with it. Voices. There were two. He hadn’t even heard another person come up the stairs with the first one. Maybe they were just that quiet.

Suddenly, the voices stopped their quiet chatter, and he cracked his eye open to find them. Two men stood in the doorway, stock still, staring at him. They looked familiar. The shorter one looked the most familiar, but just like the location, he couldn’t put a name on him. They seemed important, if he could clearly register that they mattered, that his mind wanted to know who they were.

He didn’t have much more time to think over it, though, because suddenly they were both rushing at him. The shorter one- the one he was so desperately trying to put a name to- was babbling something incoherent, arms out, and suddenly he felt himself become wrapped up in a tight hug.

But, without explanation, the jerked back. He stared at them, confused, as they stared at their hand, and he realized what had happened as he looked down at his own body.

When they’d come to wrap their arms around him, they’d passed right through his body. They had only connected on the blanket, and nothing else.

The person in front of him shook. He shook, too, but he was sure he had a much different reason to.

”Techno...?” Was that his name? Something in the back of mind whispered that yes, that was part of it. He was Techno. Techno and something else couldn’t recall.

Techno watched the man in front of him, then glanced away to the younger that stood behind him, watching on in apparent horror. At least, that’s the expression he could make out on their face. Absolute shock coupled with terror that stretched on and on, and nobody spoke. His eyelids were heavy. He let them close, breathing in slowly.

Everything felt too heavy. Not worth the effort. Even exhaling left his own bones weighing too heavily on his lungs.

Something in him didn’t like the absolute and utter weakness that had engulfed him. It was scared, and it wanted away. The weakness wasn’t good.

But another part liked the way his body sank into the blankets around him. It liked the way it could completely and utterly relax, now that it had no energy to do anything else.

A hand passed through him again. He eyes opened to stare, watching the man in front of him try and settle it on his shoulders. He could see tears in his eyes, and he remembered that tears heart, and made your eyes puffy, and that they were not relaxing. He wanted them to stop, if only for their own sake.

”Are...” the voice that came out of his own voice was scratchy and disused. It grated against his throat, and he grimaced, screwing his face up before forcing out the rest of his words. “...are you okay?”

The man in front of him said nothing, then their shoulders hunched in, and they sobbed. Techno didn’t know what he had done wrong. He watched them, concern painted across his face, as the younger one from before came forward, putting his arms around them. Whispering what Techno assumed were comforting words. Finally, after he watched them both awkwardly comforting each other, knelt down in front of him as they were, the older man look up again, swalling thickly.

”Mate...mate, do you know who I am? Phil? Do you know who Phil is?” Phil? Phil sounded familiar. But still no images came to him when he threw that name around in his minds eye, and after a moment, he carefully shook his head no.

Phil deflated, then pushed themself to stand up. He said something quietly to the young man, and they nodded curtly, leaving the room. Techno stared after him, and let his gaze flick back towards Phil once the kid had disappeared from sight.

”I’m so sorry, Techno. Do you know what’s going on?”

He shook his head again. They grimaced.

”You...you’re a ghost. You died.”

That was not right. Something the back of his mind wailed at that, absolutely horrified that that could be true. But he ignored it, and set his trembling jaw, before grinding out a few weak words. “I don’t think I like you.”

Phil just stared at him. He had to be honest. Something about him set him off, as much as his mind tried unwaveringly to like him.

”Sorry.”


	2. Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps the open world outside is something to get used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you saw me accidentally post the unedited version of this chapter no you did not

After that, Phil was silent. He stared at him for another few painful moments, before he got up, crossing the room to sit down heavily at what looked to be a comfortably hand-crafted table. Someone had put a lot of effort into that. Techno could see that, even in his bleary state. He sat up slowly, the blanket still draped around him, and leaned into a more comfortable position to watch the man.

There were wings on his back. Huge, preened to perfection, each feather a strangely glossy gray. Beyond the preening, he could see that there was something wrong with them. A feather missing here, only half of one remaining there. Whatever had happened to the poor guy must have happened a while ago, if the damage was so easily hidden. It was only through the luck of his own prying eyes that he’d managed to see the damage.

It was a few more tense minutes spent in silence before they spoke again. Phil turned his head slightly towards Techno. He got the sense he didn’t want to look at him.

“Do you remember anything about how you died?” The words came out shaky, and a hand came up remove the green and white striped bucket hat that sat on their head. He set it down on the table in front of him, taking a deep breath as he waited for an answer.

That was a hard question. When he cast his mind back, tried going beyond when he woke up in that bed, he came up with nothing but empty thoughts and a sensation of dull aching. Or...it wasn’t dull. It was like a pain that had been so constant for so long that you had no choice but to get used to the feeling of it. He hummed to himself, troubled, playing with his hooves as he thought of a way to reply. “It hurt. That’s all.”

”You don’t even know how? No idea? Do you know a place? Do you know _when_?” The questions made him cringe, and he settled back into the blankets, wondering whether they were worth answering. Why answer questions you genuinely don’t have a good reply to, anyways? If he didn’t know the answer, he couldn’t give one. He pursed his chapped lips, licking at them and stalling on one of his tusks. He was just trying to drag this out now.

”No.” He mumbled, and that just seemed to piss the guy off. He wasn’t showing it on his face, or the at least the parts of it he could see, but the tension in his hunched up shoulders and his increased grip on the hat he still held in his hands showed enough for Techno to tell.

”There wasn’t- there wasn’t even a death message. I checked every day, and now, now you’re dead. I don’t know how. Not a _single fucking_ message.” The hat was crumpled up now, wrinkled and ugly as the winged man gripped it harshly. It looked like he was moments away from ripping it up. “You still had three lives. How?”

He pulled the blankets more tightly around himself, tuning the man and his ramblings out. Something felt like it was missing, and the blankets were...sort of helping with that. He felt like a turtle, wrapped up in them as if they’d protect him from questions or glares that held no real malice. Just misdirected sadness.

Finally, the same kid from before back inside, striding over to Phil and mumbling something to him. The older man sighed, releasing the deathgrip on his hat, and put it on his head as it had been. They whispered words to each other that he couldn’t catch, and didn’t quite care to catch. During their hushed conversation, they both paused, and the kid turned briefly to him. He stared, then pointed to himself, choking out a “Ranboo,” before he turned back to Phil robotically.

Ranboo. He guessed that was probably his name, since he didn’t have any other context to go off of except for the guy pointing to himself. He committed that to his dull, hindered memory, then let his gaze wander to the door, slightly ajar from Ranboo’s entrance. Snow drifted in lightly from where it was piled up just outside.

He wanted to go outside. He needed to go outside. The sudden urge had him painfully pulling himself up, planting shaky feet as firmly as he could manage on the wooden floor. After some pushing, he managed to rise, blanket still firmly draped around himself. He stood there, watching the two keep talking. They hadn’t noticed him stand up, and as he began to creep towards the door at a snail’s pace, they were still too enraptured in their quiet conversation to notice his movements. In fact, he’d gotten to the door, trying to open it with what strength he could muster before he actually heard the scraping of a chair, and hands again passed through him as if attempting to pull him back.

Quickly recovering, they instead latched onto the doorknob, shutting the door tightly before Techno could even try to stop them. He frowned, turning to look back at Phil. He seemed sad, and scared. Scared of what, he didn’t know. “You can’t go outside. We don’t know if you melt in the snow like Ghostbur does, okay? Stay here.”

Techno didn’t understand that. He was pretty sure he could touch snow. Why wouldn’t he be able to? So he made another grab for the doorknob, but as expected, barely had the strength required to even turn it. He felt a small flash of panic jolt through him, and he scrambled with more shaky desperation, whining softly. “Please...let me out, please, I want out.”

The expression on Phil’s face was distraught. He looked back to Ranboo, and the teen shrugged, as lost as he was about what to do. Eventually, Phil relented, turning the knob and pushing the door open for Techno. He was immediately stepping out, too quick for his already shaking limbs to support, and he tripped over his legs. Hands shot through him as they tried to catch him, and he landed hard in the snow. Still no pain rocked him, and after a few moments he gripped the railing of the porch, pulling himself out. He ignored the two behind him, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw the open landscape out before him.

Phil soon came up beside him, watching him as if he’d do something stupid. He seemed confused, too, though he didn’t know why. His hooved feet sunk comfortably into the snow, and he leaned his weight almost fully onto the railing, hanging his head down. The blanket he’d had around his shoulders had fallen, half hanging off the porch, and he knew he’d be falling with it if he tried retrieving it. So he stood there, staring, thinking. Trying to puzzle out what to do next.

The house decided for him. His ears perked up when he heard a faint whinny from its side, at the bottom of the stairs, and he turned. Phil attempted to follow his gaze, but by then Techno was already moving past him. “Wait-“

He was already stumbling down the stairs, braced on the railing as he carefully moved down from one to the next. He was sure he’d be sweating, if ghosts could sweat. Probably not. He probably couldn’t even bleed.

Finally, he made it to the bottom, turning as quickly as he could manage to search for the source of the neighing. There, inside a small, fenced in area beside the house, stood a horse that his mind registered as one he knew very dearly. At least it was letting him have that tidbit. He grinned to himself loopily, almost lopsided, and stumbled the rest of the way to the fence. When his scrambling hands couldn’t quite slide the lock away from the gate, he looked back at Phil imploringly, and the man let out a sigh, moving to unlock it for him. He was overjoyed, stepping inside and immediately moving to hug the horse. It neighed softly, thankfully staying in place, as he slumped against it tiredly.

This was something he knew. Something he remembered. He ran his hands through their fur, catching them on a nametag. He pulled back, squinting at it, and smiled. “Carl.”

Carl was a nice name. Carl could probably tell something was up, because Phil did not look happy that Techno seemed to remember a horse more than his own adoptive father. Techno, of course, was not aware of this, continuing to use the horse as support while he pet it.

Ranboo had come back. They were talking again. He wasn’t paying attention, at least until one of them leaned in to grab the reins and pull the horse forward, Techno with it. He grimaced, glaring at the two. Phil held the reins in his hands, gaze hard. “Techno. Come inside. It’s cold out here, and I’m still afraid you might melt.”

Techno blinked at him. He didn’t feel cold. But he could tell that the other man was, and the tall teen beside him shivered some, awkwardly halfway between going back inside and waiting on the two of them. He frowned, petting Carl one more time before he pulled himself away regretfully. It was few stumbled steps back to the fence before he could shuffle out and begin the painful journey back up the stairs, his lips pulled in a tight line from the effort on it.

Ranboo remained by his side for the duration of it, supporting him even when he couldn't be touched. It was nice, that he at least didn't take the knowledge they were going inside and run with it so he could sit by the empty hearth. He would've, given that those blankets were still waiting for him in a pile, inviting in their comfort and the sense of safety they gave him. It might be a bit ridiculous to consider blankets as protection, but if nothing could harm him anyways, why the hell not?

After what felt like an eternity, he made it inside, making a beeline for the same spot he’d been curled up in before. Shaky steps carried him over unreliably, but he still arrived, plummeting into the mass of furs and blankets with a relieved sigh. The one he’d dragged out with him still lay forgotten in the snow, so he pulled a new one over himself, relaxing again.

More mumbled discussions. Techno still didn’t bother to try and listen in, curled up as he was. He was tired, and that trip outside, while freeing, had sapped what little energy he had left to keep his eyes open. They drifted shut, and with a soft sigh, sleep overcame him. A strange stasis of unconsciousness for a ghost, but there were more than a few things about this situation that were strange.

-

Phil’s knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping the arms of the chair. He sat, watching Techno, as they seemed to fall asleep. Ranboo stood beside him, thinking out loud.

”-then he can touch living things, definitely, but then why can’t we touch him, or the other way around? You’d think there was a system to this, not like- some random things he can touch and some he can’t-“

”Ranboo.” Phil released his tight grip on the chair, and the teen whipped his head around to look at him. “Has Tommy said anything? Called? Left a message?” Ranboo shrugged, shuffling awkwardly around in his pockets to fish his communicator out and check. No response. No nothing. Of course, it had only been a few minutes at most, Phil reasoned with himself, so there wasn’t nearly enough time for him to have written back or called or anything.

And then, ironically, as if the universe hated him, the communicator vibrated in the teen’s hand and he sucked in a breath. Phil was quick to sit up, leaning over to see the message.

_TommyInnit: holy fuck I’m coming_

_TommyInnit: not like cumming but im coming ha ha_

_TommyInnit: sorry_

_TommyInnit: ill bring ghostbur_

_TommyInnit: ghost playdate_

_TommyInnit: this is so fucked up_

_TommyInnit: ok yeah im coming ill be there soon_

Well. At least he’d seen it, and at least he was heading over. The idea of bringing Ghostbur along wasn’t something Phil had thought about, but maybe that would actually work out. Maybe another ghost would help. Help with what, he didn’t know yet, but progress on any ground would be a million times better than where they were at the moment.

He sighed, burying his face in his hands. He heard the chair beside him get pulled back as Ranboo sat down, watching him awkwardly. He knew the kid wasn’t very good at emotional comfort better than anybody now, but his presence was enough to make him feel somewhat better.

Somewhat.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt that washed over him every time he saw the ghost. Just like Ghostbur, in fact, but he hadn’t stabbed Technoblade through the chest with his own blade.

He had given up with him. He didn’t think anything could feel worse.

Months had passed since he’d last seen the piglin alive. Since anybody had seen him alive. He’d gone out to chop wood, he said. The supply of logs they had was growing small, and a blizzard was fast approaching.

He never came back. Phil had checked their supply of logs after a few hours, wondering why he hadn't come back yet and worried he wouldn't make it back before the storm hit. They had more than enough to last them through a blizzard, and he knew none of the logs were new by the thick coating of snow on them. He hadn't had enough time to go looking for Techno before the blizzard came, forcing him inside with Ranboo.

As soon as the blizzard had passed, Phil was out, searching high and low for him. He figured he’d just gotten caught up in something, and couldn’t come back until the storm passed. He never found him, though, despite scouring as much of the nearby land he could reach.

A week into his disappearance, he told Tommy. Tommy told anyone he could think to tell who would help look. Even Quackity, who had just laughed in relief, as if he knew they would never find Techno again.

A month into his disappearance, people began to stop searching. They started telling him that Technoblade was very capable and knew what he was doing, wherever he may be and whatever situation he may be in.

Two weeks later and he’d started to believe them, but he kept up his searches, travelling further and further every day.

Two months later, he started calling Techno’s cabin his, as did others.

He stopped looking. He started grieving.

Now it had been seven months total, and he couldn’t believe he’d let himself give up so easily.

Vaguely, Phil realized that his shoulders were shaking, and tears were tracking their way down his cheeks and around his hands, still pressed into his face. There were arms around him. Arms he knew were Ranboo’s, and reluctantly he leaned into their comfort, letting himself cry.


	3. Drifting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to remember old friends you don’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright this will probably be the last of like consistent updates, but ill still try to update often if i get the time for it

_It was dark._

_Cold and dark. That’s all he knew. He was laying on something that sucked the warmth out of his body, chilled him down to the marrow of his bones. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to cold- hell, he was the previous ruler of the Antarctic Empire, located in the coldest place anyone could think to go. But that was a different kind of cold. A kind of cold you could sit by the fire to chase away. One that fell off of you in puffy clumps, one that you could even appreciate on the good days._

_This was not that kind of cold. It sunk into his aching muscles with a vengeance, sinking its teeth in and refusing to let go. It was not the kind of cold that could kill him, but the horror of being in its grips while he was already so weak kept him on its brink._

_He knew there was something warm nearby. He could feel it. It wasn’t the nice kind of warmth that came around on a sunny day, but a welcome feeling nonetheless._

_He’d already tried to drag himself closer. His efforts were always in vain. He was too far, and his body too weak. There was barely enough energy in him to peel open his heavy eyelids._

_He wished he could engulf himself in that warmth. He wished that the cold beneath and inside his body had sharper teeth._

_He almost didn’t realize the centralization of warmth on his shoulder until it gripped him, hard, and he hissed in pain._

-

Someone was touching him.

More accurately, they had a grip on his shoulders, shaking him gently. Last he remembered nobody had been able to touch him at all. He opened his eyes, blinking fuzzily at the person in front of him.

It was, decidedly, not a person. It looked like one. Felt like one. Certainly acted like one, smiling happily when they saw that eye contact had been made.

Their skin was a pale gray, their eyes empty and muted. Techno got a vague feeing that his body was in a similar state, because despite the bright yellow sweater the guy was wearing, he knew they were a ghost. Their grip felt lifeless, and there was nothing behind their eyes. Another ghost.

”Hey, you’re awake! They were saying I wouldn’t be able to get you up, because I can’t touch you, but then I did! I think they just didn’t try hard enough.” The grin on their face was beginning to pain him, and he wasn’t even the one smiling. Techno cringed back, weakly trying to remove their hands from his shoulders.

“Ghostbur, you gotta give the fucker some space.” The ghost in front of him frowned, but reluctantly pulled away anyways, looking back at the person who had spoken. It was another teen, one Techno hadn’t seen before, even if his appearance rang bells in the back of his head. Blonde hair, just like Phil’s. Much taller than the other man. Dressed in a red and white tee, accompanied by ratty jeans and a hastily thrown on jacket. He had a pack on his back, with something large clipped to his hip. He rubbed his neck awkwardly, and Techno didn’t break eye contact. “Uh, hey, big man. Long time no see?”

More blank stares. They cleared their throat, glancing at the winged man sitting at the table. They gave a tense shrug, muttered something, and a brief look of annoyance crossed the new teen’s face before it disappeared again. The other ghost- Ghostbur, he’d said- had sat down next to Techno, looking him over curiously. He didn’t know what they were looking for, and he didn’t quite like it, either. So he looked anywhere but at the other spirit, which happened to be the teen again. He was standing awkwardly, also watching him. He’d love if they could not stare at him so much.

Finally, he spoke, barely above a mumble. “Name’s Tommy. Apparently you wouldn’t have remembered that.” He wouldn’t have. Techno gave nothing more than a nod, and Tommy wrinkled his nose, turning away again to sit down at the table. He could tell it wasn’t out of anger, though, or the anger wasn’t directed at him if there was any there. He could see it in the set of his shoulders, the hands rubbing anxiously against the chair. It wasn’t anger, but he didn’t quite grasp emotions yet, so there was nowhere he could place it.

Perhaps it was concern.

Concern wasted on a dead ghost. He almost made himself laugh at that. Tommy and Phil were talking. He could tell the winged man was trying to be quiet, but the teen across from him was full of gestures and loud exclamations. No secrets were kept, despite the effort to do so.

”Come on! Why not Snowchester? There’s more people there, it’s basically the same fucking climate there, too, so no worries with that. We even have a farm! A _potato_ farm! It’s-“

Techno’s attention was ripped away by a prod at his side. He looked over to the ghost sitting beside him, smiling just as widely as he had before. He frowned, trying to scoot away, but they just nudged him again. They chuckled. “Techno, it’s okay. I can call you Techno, right? I mean, alive Techno let me, but I just wanna make sure-“ Suddenly, their eyes lit up, and they squealed. He sunk further into the blankets, grimacing. “We need to get you a ghost name! Like mine’s Ghostbur! ‘Cause you’re not Techno, not really, and I get that, because I’m not really _Wilbur_ , so I’m Ghostbur!” He heard quiet movement. Glancing over, he met the eyes of Tommy and Philza, watching them now. He was uncomfortable, wriggling back.

”So? Any ideas? I was thinking Ghostblade! Or Technoghost! Oh, I know- this one’s perfect!” The ghost paused, looking back to the two others in the room excitably, wiggling his fingers for dramatic effect. “ _Technoboo._ ”

”That is literally the stupidest fucking name I have ever heard.” Techno would call the look on Tommy’s face offended, as if the absolute horridness of it had afflicted even him. He himself wasn’t too much of a fan of it, but he did like that Ghostbur was at least being friendly, even if he was pushy and way too in his face. He was acknowledging that he wasn’t Technoblade, that he didn’t remember ever being Technoblade, except for memories of pain and suffocating cold.

He hoped they were nice, and that he wasn’t replacing someone far better than he could ever be.

Tommy did not understand this. He scowled at Ghostbur, messing with his clothes. “And he is Technoblade. He’s right fucking there, dumbass, he doesn’t need a stupid new name just because he’s-,” their breath caught in his throat, and Techno found himself feeling sorry for the poor teen. “-dead. It’s him.”

Ghostbur tilted his head at Tommy. “Is he? I’m not Wilbur, I said that. He doesn’t remember you. I didn’t remember anything at first, just like him. I remembered some stuff, like dying. But even after I remembered, I still didn’t become Wilbur.” The brutal honesty of the ghost seemed to practically sting Tommy, and Philza as well, who had a tight grip on a steaming mug.

Tommy, finally, after a few moments of deliberation, stood up suddenly, the chair’s legs scraping harshly against the wood floors as he did. Phil and Ghostbur seemed just as surprised by the action as he was, and as Tommy crossed the room towards him he wondered what he had done to set him off so suddenly. They were unclipping whatever had been hanging at their side, he registered that they were demanding he hold out his hands.

Reluctantly, he stretched them out, and finally Tommy was close enough so he could make out what was at his side. It was an axe, worn with use but sharpened to perfection, glimmering with enchantments and practically begging to be wielded. He didn’t have time to think that he should probably not let Tommy drop that into his hands, and it seemed that Phil had come to the same conclusion, because the man was hurriedly getting up as the item was stretched out to him. “Tommy!”

The axe was dropped into his open hooves. The grip fit into them perfectly, like it had been shaped just to fit him. For the brief moment he was able to hold onto it, power thrummed through him, humming enchantments dancing across his spectral skin. It was like nothing he had ever thought he’d felt, but the power was so familiar, and he knew that with this in his hands the world could fall away at its blade like soft butter.

He did not like it.

It was also heavy, and his body was still weak. He doubted it would ever escape that state. Tommy barely moved out of the way before the head of the axe slammed into the wood floors, easily cleaving a massive split down the board’s center. Techno cringed, wishing he had at least tried a bit harder to hold onto it.

Tommy, however, didn’t seem fazed. He’d seen the energy the axe had sent bolting through the ghost, and he grinned, bending to yank it out of the wood. “Well, big man? How did that feel? Once you can actually hold onto it you’ll be right back to your old Techno ways, ghost or no ghost! I’m calling it now!” The confidence was practically dripping from him, and he hated to rain on the poor boy’s parade. He seemed so hopeful.

He cast an uneasy, hesitant look back to where Phil was halfway braced between getting up and sitting back down, watching them closely. Wasn’t much he could do now. The axe had already ruined the floor, and part of him was immensely sad about that, as if a part of himself had been damaged. Phil looked back at him. He didn’t know what Techno had felt, nor did he know that as inviting as the axe was, as much as it fit his hooved hands, he couldn’t stand to touch it. Not just because his arms were too weak to support its weight, but wielding the weapon made an uneasy feeling curl up inside of him.

”I...don’t like it. It felt wrong. Sorry.” Techno looked down as he spoke softly, away from Tommy’s face as a broken expression crossed it. There was silence, them Tommy was crossing the room again, back towards the table to sit down heavily. Ghostbur had been watching the interaction in silence, and once Tommy had sat back down, he nudged Techno again. That was getting a bit annoying, but when he looked up again the expression on the other spirit’s face was soft and inviting.

”Sorry that happened. I get it. They’re just confused, and that’s okay, because you’re probably confused too! I was for a while at first, and I still am, so there’s nothing to worry about!” He grinned again, looking over to the two, who had begun talking quietly again- Tommy no longer shouting, a resigned slump to his posture. Ghostbur continued to smile, then whispered to him in a none too subtle voice. “We should sneak out! You liked seeing Carl, right? We can go see Carl, maybe take him somewhere, like your turtle farm. It would be fun!”

He let his eyes wander around the cottage. There wasn’t much to do here anyways, he supposed, and another visit with Carl was something he could always look forward to. Ghostbur had gone on rambling about someone named Friend and blue. Finally, he reached out to give him a nudge, muttering a quick “Let’s go,” before he was already trying to get up. Ghostbur sprang up, thrilled that he’d agreed, and drifted over to the door. Thankfully, their movements went largely unnoticed. Both Phil and Tommy had their backs to them, so even on his shaking feet Techno was able to get to the door before either of them noticed.

Ghostbur opened the door for him quietly, and he used the wall as support while he slipped out. At least he knew not to make noise. The door was shut gently behind them, and Ghostbur floated at his side while he made his slow descent down the steps outside.

”I wonder why you don’t float?” They piped up suddenly, and Techno barely even glanced at them. That was a good question. A good question for someone who knew the answer, because he knew about as little as the other spirit did in this situation.

He reached Carl much faster than he had on his first venture outside. Ghostbur unlatched the gate, and moved inside the small stable towards the horse. Techno came with him, immediately hugging into the animal once he was within range. The other ghost chuckled behind him, taking ahold of the reins and beginning to lead the two of them out of the safety of the stable and into the snow.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are mega appreciated :)


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